


the lines we cross seeking solace

by maderilien



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Dreamscapes, M/M, Mission Fic, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28093938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maderilien/pseuds/maderilien
Summary: It should have been a simple mission—get in, grab some data, get out—but what is ever simple when Anakin Skywalker is involved?As his squad struggles to make it out alive, Anakin is plagued by emotions he thought he'd had under control.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	the lines we cross seeking solace

**Author's Note:**

> This draft has been sitting in my folder for four months and I FINALLY managed to finish editing it. Enjoy!

_War!_

_The Separatists have asserted their dominion over the Baxel sector. Ruling over the systems with an iron fist, the Separatists seek to control the entire mining operations in the area, disrupting, in the process, the livelihood of hundreds of millions of people._

_It falls down to the Galactic Republic to retrieve the Separatists’ battle plans from one of their hidden facilities in the Rinn system. The spies of the Republic must remain undetected, but there are many ways a mission can go wrong..._

**Part I**

With the 501st keeping the ghost crew of the base occupied by the front gates, Anakin Skywalker, Captain Rex, and ARC trooper Fives infiltrate the ventilation system like genuine masters of subterfuge. Stealthily—an unusual but not impossible sight when it comes to groups including General Skywalker—they advance deep inside the Separatist building.

Their target is located in the archives, well underground, spanning the better half of the eighth level of the base. Getting there is easy enough—Fives has mastered the blueprints and he guides them through the ventilation shafts expertly, without making a single wrong turn. It’s not the most comfortable way through the building, but it is the most direct option.

Captain Rex has the data drive ready. The moment they drop down, he beelines to the nearest computer interface and loads up the details they need. The livelihood of several poor systems from the sector rests on their inconspicuous retrieval of separatist intel. 

By the entrance, Anakin is focusing on the robotic presence outside, feeling them like spectres in the Force. There are no more than a handful of droids in their vicinity, patrolling the corridors at an even pace. If he strains, he can even discern the soft metallic thud of their feet as they walk.

"Echo suggests we hurry up," Fives whispers, fiddling with his comlink. "Trouble’s coming our way."

Anakin exchanges a look with him. Moments later, several battle droid units start amassing above them, then move toward the lifts as a group. He senses a foreign presence scurrying among them, fast and slippery against the backdrop of hulking metal carcasses.

"Rex?" Anakin asks, glancing over his shoulder at the corridor. Metallic footsteps are heading their way and _fast._

"Almost ready!" The clone trooper shifts from foot to foot in front of the computer, glaring at the screen as if it will make it work any faster. There is a soft chime from the device, which leads to the captain to let out a brief _whoop!_ before he disconnects the data drive. "It'll upload on our way out," he says. 

He inputs a few commands on his forearm device, then nods firmly in satisfaction.

"Clear."

"Are we still taking the elevators back up?" Anakin asks, breathing out in amusement. "It sounds like quite the ruckus out there."

"They shouldn't be coming this way…" Fives mutters.

The three of them retreat to the back of the archives, behind a large shelving unit full of discs and crates. Moments later, the archive door blasts open. A short native dashes inside, their whiskers trailing after them like wild ribbons. Droids are rapidly piling up in the corridor, bringing with them infernal noise and intermittent blaster fire.

"Get her!"

"Blast her!"

At the same time, the alien shouts, "Die!"

She throws a metal sphere on the ground at her feet right as the standard battle droid units open fire.

The device at her feet emits a high pitched noise, then bursts into light and static, so loud and piercing that the three spies of the Republic crash on their sides, holding their heads with both hands.

The entire building almost seems to exhale as it drops into total darkness.

All the droids crash to the floor, deactivated.

"EMP?" Fives asks.

"And a powerful one at that," Anakin grumbles with mild irritation, his metal hand hanging unresponsive by his side. "This is why I said we should have come clean with the locals. We could have avoided… 'scheduling conflicts.'"

Neither of them having the rank to reply to such remarks in the middle of a mission, both the captain and Fives remain quiet.

"A rebel incursion _right now?"_ Anakin bemoans. "The universe hates me."

"The coast should be clear, sir," Captain Rex says.

"If only we could _see_ the coast."

"Yes, sir!"

"Don't mind me, Rex," Anakin sighs. "Plan B?"

It takes a few moments for the captain to reply: "All our plans involve at least one form of electricity."

"Fives," Anakin turns to where he thinks the ARC trooper is, but an affirmative 'here' comes instead from his other side, prompting the frown on his face to deepen, "how well do you know the blueprints?"

"Well enough to bypass the elevators, sir. There's a lot of stairs, though."

"We should get moving, then."

They shuffle out of the corner of the room holding onto each other like veritable blind men. Grave silence meets them in the archives—during the few seconds they too are quiet and still, the pitch black surrounding them sparks to life, turning into a cosmic void. Anakin shudders.

"I hope you aren't afraid of the dark," he jokes, voice strained.

Captain Rex retrieves a flare from his belt and sets it off, sending forth brilliant red light. He holds it out in front of him and walks to the main computer interface, sidestepping the deactivated droids littering the floor. By the computer, the native is slumped backwards over the input panel, dark liquid staining her entire torso.

"Poor sod," Fives whispers.

 _Avoidable casualty,_ thinks Anakin. He was afraid something would come up, but not something of this calibre. The Separatist base has been a target for the local insurgents ever since its creation, and though the arrival of the Republic forces calmed some of their spirits, it seems not all of them would trust them with a successful mission. Anakin can’t blame them, considering how reserved the Republic is when it comes to its military initiatives.

A powerful EMP could take out a good portion of the base—it being manned exclusively by droids—but it wouldn't be as useful by itself, he realizes with dawning horror. Not without a strong follow-up.

"We need to get out _now!"_ he commands. "Take the lead, ARC soldier!"

"Yes, sir!"

They travel down the corridors like ghosts. Battle droids have fallen all over the floor, in piles of three's and four's as they'd each answered the alarm. It's child’s play to simply trot down the length of the corridors and dash up the stairs without having to mask their presence, but he can't shake the feeling that something worse than running up several levels of stairs is waiting for them around the corner.

Time is running out either way—he has no idea what type of EMP blast this was and how thoroughly it has affected the machines in the base. If they're lucky, they might have just enough time to reach the surface.

Not a minute later he feels it.

The tremor in the Force gives him a few seconds' warning before the explosion actually happens. It's only enough time to realize there is little he can do to get them to safety, but such odds have never deterred him before. He throws out his left hand toward the wall between the staircase and the rest of the base and blasts it apart with the Force. Captain Rex cries out in shock, as does Fives, when they are unceremoniously tossed through the opening and onto the more stable floor. Anakin dives after them in the nick of time. 

The stairs are first to go, crumbling to the bottom of the column in a mass of debris, dust, and a cacophony that could rival a Separatist walker smashing on the ground. The base makes one, long awful groaning sound as it shakes as more explosions go off in sequence above them. Hard thuds like slabs of rock and metal falling one over the top resonate deep within the structure and they're getting louder, closer—

He's heard it spoken both with conviction and with doubt, that he is the Chosen One. 

His thoughts? Irrelevant. 

There is only the hope that Master Qui-Gon Jinn's belief in him was even slightly accurate. He clings to this single line of thought as he focuses on the Force around him and within him. The need to protect his squad drives him further, makes it easier to gather the Force around them like a shield, invisible to the untrained eye, but unshakeable—or only as unshakeable as him, and right now he must become the pillar they need to lean on. 

His breath comes in short, noisy gasps as he struggles to keep the rocks, beams and metal panels from crushing them entirely. He must hold out until the debris settles.

"General!" cries out Fives—or perhaps it is Rex?

The floor shakes underneath his feet. They’re already deep underground—there isn’t much further down they could fall, though the notion is terrifying. 

Anakin bears most of the weight even as the floor crumbles and they drop one level below. Keeping their bodies from dropping to their death feels like it takes the life out of him, a noose around his neck, tightening with each passing second. Still, he slows their descent enough that they have a moment to land, and not break their legs. 

He hears his teammates coughing next to him and exhales, drained of energy. A sharp pain blossoms on his back, beneath his right shoulder blade, as several rocks escape his grip. His concentration wavers, then it breaks entirely and he slumps to the floor.

***

Breathing is difficult. Every expansion of his ribcage makes the pain in his right side flare up brightly, like blades stabbing him cleanly through. The air itself is heavy and unpleasant; the cloud of dust that rose up when the building crashed has yet to fully dissipate. Anakin swallows a mouthful of it as he sits up.

"Ahsoka," he calls out in-between two coughs.

"General!" a distinctively _not_ teenage girl voice replies at once.

A moment later, a pair of boots stops by his side. Gravel scrunches underneath the military grade sole of the shoes.

Anakin opens his eyes, catches a glimpse of trooper armour, then promptly clenches them shut, wincing at the light the clone is holding. A headache envelops his skull from temple to temple like a helmet of pressure and discomfort, pulsing near his left eye fiercely. Now that he's noticed it, he can't ignore it anymore, and not even darkness can alleviate some of the pain.

"Commander Tano is not on this mission, sir," Captain Rex says.

Not on this mission…?

"Where…" 

Anakin's words die on his lips as the events leading up to the crash return to him: an overgrown jungle, a separatist base hidden inside the mesa sinkhole, his squad sent to retrieve important data while the rest of the 501st kept the droid crew distracted.

"We're completely cut off."

Anakin tries to bring his right hand to his forehead, but it remains limp on the floor. He looks down at it with dread. The metal is unscathed, but dead weight.

"Our comms are fried."

"Where is Fives?"

"He went to scout the place. We're underground, near the storage wing."

Captain Rex takes out a small utility flashlight out of his tool pouch. He tinkers with it for a few moments, adjusting its brightness, then approaches Anakin with some hesitation in his steps.

"Permission to evaluate your medical condition?"

Anakin shrugs in reply. While his captain looks over his reflexes, he tries to make sense of the situation.

"Any idea what caused the explosion?" Anakin asks.

"No, sir."

"Any word from Appo?"

"The last transmission confirmed their position and successful advance. No casualties on our side."

Footsteps come closer from the hallway. Anakin looks to the door and recognizes Fives standing in the doorway. The emergency lights overhead bathe him in red from head to toe, turning his armour into red and his blue markings black.

Captain Rex turns to Fives briefly, then returns to his examination. He flashes the light in Anakin's eyes without warning, though he manages a quiet 'sorry' when Anakin grimaces.

"We're in sector C, 8th floor underground. The elevators are down and the stairs crashed with us," Fives reports.

"Were you two injured?" Anakin asks.

"No, sir. You saved us."

The pain in Anakin's side flares as if to remind him of the price he paid for it. "Did you encounter anyone?" he asks, biting back a wince.

"No personnel," says Fives. "Some clankers are knocked out by the elevators. I made sure it stays permanent."

"There was no other entrance to the base," Captain Rex explains, "but they can't have possibly built so deep underground without a safety exit."

Anakin wholeheartedly agrees. He leans back against the wall of the room and closes his eyes, trying to visualize their surroundings.

Fog and coldness welcomes him, like the chill born out of fatigue. Sleep dances on the tip of his eyelashes, alluring, and he almost gives in to it, were it not for Fives' footsteps moving toward them. Opening his eyes is difficult, but not impossible, though the fog in his mind carries over and blurs his vision.

The ARC trooper stops by the captain's side, all business. "There is a tunnel leading out into a cave not too far from here. Everything else is sealed off or caved in," he reports.

"Let's go," says Anakin. Using the wall for support, he stands carefully, mindful of his blood pressure. Already black spots are dancing in his eyes—he doesn't need to faint on top of it all.

Captain Rex helps him by taking off some of his weight and supporting his right side, heavy due to the malfunctioned prosthetic. It frustrates Anakin to be in this position and to walk so slowly through the base, but he is glad for the company.

It doesn’t take long for the ARC trooper to throw various conversation subjects at them, not quite expecting any answer, but clearly enjoying himself from simply delivering ‘news.’

For instance, as they are approaching the tunnel in question, Fives very conspicuously elbows Rex in the side and stage-whispers toward the both of them, 

"I heard Waxer from Commander Cody's battalion has been sighing after a family lately. He's sweet on a waitress at the 79’s."

"Fives! Gossip? Right now? Really?" Rex frowns. A moment later, he leans toward the trooper and whispers right back, "Is it that green girl Meena?"

Fives nods, cackling silently.

"So _that's_ why she kept coming by our table last week!"

"I kind of see what he likes about her. What about you, Captain? Anyone you like?"

Rex splutters. When Anakin looks at them in amusement, he finds Rex throwing him a furtive glance.

"It's okay, Rex, you can talk freely. Who knows how long we'll be stuck here anyway," he says.

The captain doesn't seem reassured at all, but his posture relaxes a fraction. Fives instead wholly embraces the permission and claps his hands together.

"Waxer and Boil helped this tiny twi'lek child a good while back, and it left a strong impression on him," the ARC soldier says just as conspiratorially.

Captain Rex hums in agreement. "I remember that, didn't they take some pictures too?"

"Yep."

Even Anakin remembers that, despite having no tie to the whole situation. Obi-Wan had shown him the photos one evening thanks to Commander Cody and they all gathered around the holopad to admire the troopers holding a child in their arms.

It was sweet at the time, but it feels bitter to think of it now, knowing how uncertain all of their fates really are, and how easily any of them could die at any time in this awful war.

This Mesa could very well be their graves if they don't manage to find a way out in time.

What did he even say to Obi-Wan before he left?

"Someone on your mind?" asks Fives.

A tremor passes through Anakin—he looks up at the clone with guarded eyes, only to find that Fives is looking at Rex instead.

"No," Rex says plainly, leaving no room for argument. "I was merely thinking about getting out of here alive."

Anakin's little crisis goes unnoticed—thankfully. He thinks he's been doing a fine job at hiding _this_ crush, at least, but while his expressions don't reveal it, his heartbeat is going at twice the pace. For once he is thankful for the dark shadows around them hiding his eyes.

Soon, they find the exit Fives was talking about and step out of the building right into a salty, damp cave. Rex's flare dances wildly in the tiny crystals embedded in the walls.

Fives sighs. "It must be nice to have someone…"

"Do you ever think about it, sir?" Captain Rex asks.

He wouldn't dare, were it a different situation. It's plain to see he already regrets the question by how wide his eyes grow and how deeply he flushes. Anakin spares him the further embarrassment and looks ahead at the darkness of the earth waiting to swallow them whole.

"I'm certain everybody's thought about it, even us Jedi," he replies casually—or at least he hopes he sounds like it.

Captain Rex gets a hold of himself and does not answer.

"After the war ends, you should… If you find someone," Anakin stumbles over the words, feeling more tense himself now. "Walk away if you can."

 _"If_ the war ever ends," Fives mutters from the side.

Captain Rex elbows the clone trooper in the side in reproach. "Until that happens, you can count on us to the very end, sir."

"I know," Anakin flashes them a small, strained smile. It’s becoming harder to stay focused. 

Both Captain Rex and Fives look exhausted as well, their movements sluggish, testament of the rough tumble they’ve all had. Fives walks with a slight limp, going a few steps ahead to scout the area.

Anakin cannot think. Simply standing upright and putting one foot in front of the other already takes up most of his energy. Captain Rex hovers close to his side, not doing a good job of hiding his mother henning at all, but even teasing him about that would take too much out of Anakin.

 _This sucks,_ he thinks morosely.

"General?" Captain Rex says, as if from light-years away.

 _What?_ Anakin frowns. When he blinks, he sees the ground tilting and rushing to meet him.

***

He faintly realizes this must be a dream: he's on Coruscant, for one, and the damp coldness of the caverns they're stuck in in the Mesa clings to him even in his sleep.

The sun bathes his room in golden just like it does on the lazy afternoons of summer. Anakin steps closer to the window, seeking the warmth, but it is merely an impression, and the light is empty.

A knock on his door breaks him out of his thoughts. Before he can reply, it opens, revealing his Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Anakin, I've been looking for you," he says, not one hint of urgency in his voice. He almost looks relaxed. 

This combination of words and demeanour do not match often, so Anakin gives him his full attention, intrigued. 

Obi-Wan stops a couple of paces away from him, on the edge between the shadow and the sun rays. "How are you feeling?"

"Is something wrong?" Anakin asks, perplexed. 

"No, no, nothing's wrong. It's a beautiful day," Obi-Wan says, looking pointedly around the room. "Would you like to try that dish I was telling you about?"

Anakin follows his line of sight, finally taking notice of the vibrant colours of his trinkets scattered about, of how green the leaves of his singular (still alive) houseplant are. It’s warm now, too—warmer still when his eyes find Obi-Wan again.

"‘That dish?’" Anakin repeats blankly.

"Oh, Anakin, so you weren't listening after all." Obi-Wan's expression falls. "The crusty Mon Cala shrimp soup at that diner."

A strange tension settles on Anakin's shoulders. This dish is something _he's_ been thinking of suggesting. 

It is certainly a dream, he realizes. The room is hazier now, slowly vanishing into the periphery of his consciousness. There is only the sun outside, the shadows inside, and the two of them facing each other. The longer he stares at Obi-Wan, the more the fog encapsulates his mind.

_'Do you ever think about it, sir?'_

Captain Rex's question pops into his mind uninvited. It strikes him down like a bolt of lightning, sets his heart racing. His staring at Obi-Wan wavers, becomes a source of shame—he shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not with these thoughts in his head.

 _It's a dream,_ he tells himself. _It's a dream. I'm on a mission. This is a dream. He's not real._

Obi-Wan watches him strangely, faintly confused, but mostly smiling good naturedly like he does on easier days. He's still waiting for Anakin's reply, but Anakin is rooted to the spot. Everything fades away, turns into a grey haze that bleeds into his visual field and slows down his thoughts.

"Two steps forward, and you’d actually be kissing it," Obi-Wan says.

What?

He knocks on the air and the air makes a metallic sound.

Anakin closes his eyes and tries to control his breathing.

 _You want to,_ part of him says. _Do it. It's not real._

The lights dim considerably. When Anakin opens his eyes, they're sitting at a small square table in a nondescript diner. There's large decorative vegetation acting as partition between each table; theirs is in a corner, out of sight, in a rather dark and secluded spot. Indistinguishable conversation floats around them from the rest of the place, settling like white noise in the background. Sitting across from him, Obi-Wan is leafing through the menu with interest.

Anakin stares at him openly. The lamps illuminate half of his face, enough to highlight his cheekbones and the elegant slope of his nose, the carefully trimmed edges of his beard. The contained surreality of the scene is not lost on Anakin, who feels hyper-aware of every inch of himself. A single movement—resting his elbow on the table—brings a shift in the air like there's electricity sparking around, ready to set them alight if he gets any closer.

He's loathe to speak. Should he even say anything in the first place? Still, as he reaches across and lies a hand over Obi-Wan's holding the menu, he calls his name quietly.

Obi-Wan startles at the word, at the touch.

Anakin leans back in surprise, confused.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan asks. "Are you alright?"

Familiar warmth radiates toward Anakin. _This_ comforting presence isn't something his mind could ever conjure, even in a dream.

"Anakin," his old master calls out again, growing more alert, the concern visible in his eyes.

***

Within a blink, he's staring at Captain Rex as the clone is shaking him awake. He’s taken off his helmet, and in the dim light cast by the safelights, Anakin notices several wrinkles on his forehead, full of worry.

"Sir? Are you alright?" he asks, though in his mind Anakin hears the echo of his master’s voice.

Anakin grimaces as he sits up—his injuries flare up in pain, restricting his movements somewhat. The phantom image of Obi-Wan fades away, though a gentleness remains around him in the air, like a ripple in the Force. 

"I…"

"You were unconscious for a few minutes," the captain says, keeping one hand on Anakin’s back to support his weight. "Should we camp here until our comms come back online?"

"No. If the droids boot back up, we’re not making it out alive in this state." Anakin struggles to stand. He has never exhausted himself while using the Force to such an extent—a part of him is frustrated and ashamed of this weak constitution, not even able to hold up some debris without sacrificing all his resources, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it right now. "I can keep going. Where is Fives?"

"Went on ahead, right down this path."

Captain Rex shines his flare down the length of the cavern; the darkness is so thick and impenetrable that only a small portion of the walls reveal themselves. Thankfully, it seems to be a single path going forward.

"Let’s go."

"Yes, sir!"

They advance through the cavern slowly. Anakin doesn’t mention it, but he is acutely aware of his captain enforcing the pace and constantly keeping an eye on him. He doesn’t feel faint anymore, but the desire to sit and never stand up is strong and gaining ground as the minutes pass.

Water drips down the walls rhythmically. The ground is not slippery per se, but with the state Anakin’s in right now, he could easily trip on air, so he watches his step. No words are exchanged between them; only the _drip drip drip_ echoing faintly in the cavern and the sound of their boots.

When the flare runs out, Anakin wordlessly hands Captain Rex his lightsaber.

**Part II**

The cavern soon opens into a small underground chamber with metal walls and flickering red lights mounted on the ceiling. Blaster shots ring out starkly in the grave silence of the earth.

Captain Rex tenses up considerably. He hands Anakin his weapon back, puts on his helmet, and with one of his blasters in hand, he goes on ahead.

On his part, Anakin sits down heavily against the cave wall and catches his breath.

Several shots later, the clone captain returns to him quickly, mildly perturbed.

"General, we have urgent news," he says.

"What is it?" Anakin asks.

"We found a functional droid claiming it can get us out of here."

"What's the matter, then?"

Captain Rex hesitates.

From nearby, Fives' voice reaches them through the door: "Do not move a single cog, understood?"

"Roger-roger!"

Anakin breathes out a laugh. _"That's_ our problem?"

"It's most certainly a trap, sir."

"I don't know, Rex, I kind of miss a warm meal. Let's get out of here first and worry about the rest later."

They enter the compound, where Fives is keeping the battle droid unit at gunpoint. The droid stands very still, only moving its head slightly from side to side to take them all in when Anakin and Rex enter. It doesn't say a word while Anakin inspects it with a calculated gaze.

"We could use a guide," Anakin suggests lightly. He keeps his eyes on the battle droid, though his attention is more focused on the tense clone trooper by his side, blasters out and safety off.

"I know the base," the droid says at once. "Please don't shoot!"

"But _sir,"_ Captain Rex cries out, taking a step forward so that he is half in front of Anakin's weak side.

"I’ll have to remove its chip," Anakin muses as he studies the droid. It seems to be a standard B1-battle droid unit, paint slightly chipped around the edges of its head and chassis. He hasn’t tinkered with a functional model before, but Anakin is great with wires, if little else.

The worry Captain Rex is oozing would probably drown them all if it were liquid. Anakin works with the droid's circuits undeterred, trying very hard to ignore the pair of eyes drilling holes into his back. It feels equal parts judgemental and apprehensive. 

With considerable difficulty due to having one single available hand, he reaches inside the droid’s innards, rewiring circuits and replacing several connections. The inhibitor chip is not burrowed in too deep, though the technique is delicate and it brings his headache back as he goes through each step. 

"Sir… if this blows up in our face…"

"Trust me," Anakin insists. "Give it a chance. I'm almost curious to see what happens to these clankers if you take the separatists away from them."

Captain Rex stays silent.

Anakin replaces the panels onto the droid's chassis. Their manufacturing is far from good—the cheap, assembly line unit becomes even more apparent on the inside. These creatures have little resources to fall back on—their strength lies in their numbers. Alone, this battle droid would not stand a chance against two elite clone troopers and a Jedi, even injured and starving as they are.

He powers it up and waits.

"Sir?" the droid asks first thing.

"So you know the way, then?" Anakin lifts his eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes, sir! Follow me."

"Roger-roger," he snickers, at first muffled, but it turns into a laugh when he hears Fives chuckle beside them.

Captain Rex falls behind. He still has one blaster out and he's glaring at the back of the droid's head with plenty of distrust.

"Perhaps you could tell us the plan before we go, so that my friend here can relax," Anakin suggests.

The standard battle droid unit, having taken a few steps already, stops and turns around. It gives off the impression of a jittery little person, shaking for their life, despite the limited expressivity of their build. It looks at each of them in turn as it stalls for an answer.

"This base connects to a larger system of caves and tunnels underneath. It leads to an outpost at the base of the Mesa."

"We saw no outposts whatsoever in the jungle," Rex grunts. He moves forward and steps in-between the droid and Anakin. ("Hey," the droid mutters with affront upon being pushed aside.) "And I was quite thorough in my research."

"You have insufficient data."

"Insuf—"

"The lower layer of rocks has natural magnetic properties. It blocks most communications and scanners."

"This brings up another problem," Fives pipes in. "We were looking for a way to contact HQ for backup, but if our comms won’t make it through anyway..."

The many voices and rising temperaments are giving Anakin's headache a smaller, but just as potent headache of its own. He rubs his forehead and sighs.

"Here's the plan," he says, stepping in front of them and tilting his chin up. "We get to the outpost, find their array, call for back-up, and _then_ we can worry about Roger here."

"Roger?" Rex repeats, quietly and dumbfounded.

"Understood?" Anakin looks at his captain in particular, lifting an expectant eyebrow.

"Yes, sir!"

***

Once they exit the intermediary room, the tunnel multiplies into a myriad of caves and interlocking pathways, making the droid’s presence truly a blessing. It’s even colder than before, a sharpness to the air that bites at Anakin’s face mercilessly and adds some red to his cheeks. For the droids here, the temperature and the terrain must be of no consequence, but the three humans feel the hazards keenly. Next to him, Captain Rex is shivering; only his hand, where he’s holding onto Anakin, is stable and firm.

Safety lights are mounted on the walls here and there, too far in-between to offer any sort of visibility. Fives turns on a flare from his own pouch and casts everything into red, burning light. The droid walks undeterred, unperturbed by the game of light and shadow around it—it avoids small obstacles and takes care to bring slippery slopes to their attention well before they pass by these dangerous areas, like a droid which has had to take this road countless times in its being stationed here.

The Force continues to elude Anakin’s grasp, though he persists in reaching out around him. It doesn’t _shy away_ from him, not exactly. Rather, it lets him pass through, like one would pass through a cloud. 

Formless. Uncontainable.

The caves, the exhaustion, the dream he’s had—all of these pile up on his mind not unlike the mass of debris he held up to save Rex and Fives, except he finds these immaterial things to be harder to let go of.

"Never thought I’d follow a droid into the dark like this," Fives mutters at some point, after they’ve just passed a particularly narrow breach between large caverns. His words echo back at him from the other side of the empty space, hollow and distorted.

"You are welcome," says the battle droid.

Fives huffs in surprise at hearing such words. "I’ll thank you when I feel the sun on my face again."

"At our current speed, we will reach the outpost in two hundred and twenty minutes."

Anakin tenses up briefly, aware that he is the one keeping them behind. He picks up the pace vindictively, ignoring Captain Rex’s small noise of surprise as he pulls away from his grasp and walks on his own.

"We’ll get there when we get there," says Rex, glaring at the droid.

The brisker pace Anakin sets up keeps him from worrying about other things, things his lapses into unconsciousness have roused like smouldering cinders from a fire long extinguished. Things like the lingering smell of Mandalorian tea hidden among the salt in the depths of the Mesa, or the way his heart speeds up and his mouth dries at the simple thought of reaching across the table toward his master.

For the better part of the next hour, they traverse deeper and deeper caverns. The monotony is broken up once they reach a sturdy bridge equipped with thick parapets, connecting one side of a cliff with a large opening on the other side, and crossing over an opaque mass of black water, so deep and mesmerizing that it appears wholly solid.

The battle droid takes them through a main tunnel after that, and the labyrinthic build of the Mesa fades in favour of a well-beaten path carved out by Separatist droids.

"I assembled the circuitry here," says Roger, pointing toward the light sources on the walls and the couple of metal panels set up along the way. "Seismic scanners, among other devices, to evaluate the integrity of the base. The report should be all kinds of messy right now."

"Have the rebels tried to destroy this base before?" Fives asks.

"Many failed attempts. We defend our bases well and follow orders even better." The droid looks at Fives and Rex in turn, faceplate completely unreadable, but the pause in its words hints at something more serious than small talk. "Just like you."

"We are nothing alike," Rex mumbles, less vitriolic than his previous jabs at the battle droid, but still grumpy.

It takes his words as a challenge, perking up as it starts to list off cheerily, "Manufactured _en masse,_ built for combat, expendable—"

"We make our own decisions!" Rex interrupts the droid at once. "You are stuck within the confines of your programming."

The droid takes no offense at his tone, or doesn’t show it, content to keep walking one step ahead. "My programming, your orders—is there such a big difference between them?" 

The comeback has rendered Captain Rex silent. The three humans exchange a gloomy look; the burden of war is much harder to bear when discussing such topics with the enemy.

Neither of these ground soldiers have chosen to be part of this war, yet their lives are forfeit as they confront each other on the battlefront, both sides made out of sand, facing the merciless, unstoppable waves of the ocean.

This fact hangs over them for the next portion of their road, made harder to bear by the situation at hand: a droid, helping two clones and a Jedi escape with their lives.

Anakin keeps up well, despite the way his back and his knees protest from the exertion. There is no choice, after all—he must walk, or stand still and be consumed by the cold and the dark. Thin, almost imperceptible tendrils reach out to him from the Force, bringing with them the promise of warmth and home. Before he can latch onto them, however, the energy dissipates, not quite like a light being extinguished, but rather like a drop of ink spreading inside a large pot of water, diluted until its essence is too small to be perceived anymore.

The familiarity of the ghostly touches makes him imagine his master, perhaps aboard the Negotiator, hearing news of the 501st’s failure to report back at the appointed time. Worried, but not surprised, no. It is never a surprise when a plan is derailed, when it comes to Anakin’s missions. Obi-Wan knows it all too well, but still he would try to find him along their cosmic tether, to make sure Anakin is alright.

If Anakin could gather himself for five minutes, just to form a reply, a simple sensation of _awareness_ and _stability,_ perhaps then he could breathe more easily. He feels the faintest prodding at the edge of his consciousness—it too fickle to hold onto, him too exhausted to respond—but still he tries to reach for it.

***

The breeze is dry.

Ahead, as if hand-picked from the deepest corners of his mind, lies the street he passed back and forth as a child, so intimately ingrained into his memory that a chill runs down his spine at the sight.

There is no one around. Not a single voice advertises their wares, not a single jawa is trying to haggle for spare parts.

Stronger winds lift sand into the air now and then, blowing it into his face. He rubs at his eyes with frustration.

He follows the sandy path, and despite knowing what lies at its end, seeing Watto’s shop waiting for him with the door wide open still stops him in (unpleasant) surprise.

"Watto?"

There is no answer, but somehow, speaking has broken some of the spell he has fallen under.

"Mom?" Anakin yells next, already heading down the road to their old house. "Mom!" 

The door is cracked open, splattered in blood.

His heart lodges itself in his throat, beating madly and hindering his breath. 

No, that's not blood…

The light plays tricks on the mind in the desert, he knows.

He knows, yet his breathing remains fast and skittish. He steps inside full of dread. 

There is a body on the floor, cast in shadow.

"Mom!"

No! Is he too late again?!

He runs to her, drops to his knees by her side. He grabs the fabric over her shoulders and aches at its texture, so, so familiar that his heart swells with joy and with agony both in his chest. 

To feel this childhood comfort, if only for a moment—

The door rattles.

"Anakin!" 

It's his master's voice, full of concern. He listens to his footsteps as the man comes closer, but Anakin makes no move to reply or reveal himself. The shawl in his hands is warm and soft and when he holds it against his face like so, it clears his thoughts.

"Ani," Obi-Wan repeats himself, much closer now.

There are arms around him, hugging him, bringing with them such comfort that it makes him melt into the embrace.

"I'm sorry."

The fabric falls empty in Anakin's hands, barely weighing anything where it's draped over his thighs. He inhales sharply. He grabs at it, twists it in his hold, parts from Obi-Wan to look down at the cloth.

His mother is long gone.

"Shh," Obi-Wan murmurs as he brings him close again and starts rubbing circles on his back. "You're not alone. I’m here."

Of course she's dead, Anakin thinks wildly. His awareness comes to him in bits and pieces, like looking at a colorful sight through the kaleidoscope. He sees each individual colour, but the whole eludes him.

Obi-Wan's voice echoes around him steadily. Now and then, a sentence makes its way to Anakin, and he listens to it in anguish as he leans with his cheek over Obi-Wan's collarbone.

"Am I doing enough?" the older Jedi is asking himself. "How do I get through to you?"

 _A strange dream this is,_ Anakin thinks. 

He lets go of his mother's shawl—his fingers feel stuck, barely responsive—and puts his arms around Obi-Wan's waist. They rarely touch beyond a clap on the shoulder, a pat on the back before a mission. This feels like tasting the cake for dessert before dinner time—sweet and good and craved after the entire day.

"I should have gone back and saved her too," Obi-Wan whispers. "Why didn't I?"

It's easy to find a glimmer of acceptance when the one he loves is holding him so tightly.

"We can't save everyone," Anakin says, if only to wipe that anguish off of Obi-Wan's face. "You know it better than me."

And it's not easy to think of it, either. Not here, in his rundown house, surrounded by his memories in oh, so much detail. He could have dreamed her alive, dusting off her shelf of trinkets, but in his heart he knows this is a loss that could never be filled, so the sole reminder he gets is her cold corpse, turning into dust. Could _he_ have reached her faster?

"I'm sorry." Obi-Wan rests his chin on top of Anakin's head with a soft sigh. "Perhaps if my master were here instead of me, things would have been different."

"It's not your fault," he tells Obi-Wan. _It's mine,_ he doesn't say out-loud, but knows to be true.

Obi-Wan looks down at him with unreadable eyes. Anakin leans back on Obi-Wan's left arm and meets his gaze with a touch of affection. It slips through and brings some colour to his smile—and he lets it. He's tired from holding himself confined to a small box of repressed _everything._

A strange dream—and taunting him with comfort he will never have.

At least he doesn't have to talk himself into acting on it this time around. 

It comes naturally to tilt his head up and press a kiss to Obi-Wan's cheek. It's the only place he can reach with ease, but the act puts an end to Obi-Wan's rambling and replaces it with a heavy, sorrowful exhale. The hardest step done, Anakin kisses him again and again, from his cheekbone, to the corner of his mouth. He shifts to his knees and puts his arms around Obi-Wan's neck, the scratch of Obi-Wan's beard on his face as rough as he's imagined it, and by the Force, has he imagined it plenty.

Obi-Wan lets himself be peppered in butterfly kisses. He moves one of his hands to the back of Anakin's neck and holds it there heavily, like he's clinging to him rather than keeping him in place.

Emboldened, Anakin leans into him until he's the one casting shadows over Obi-Wan. He's always feared he would be pushed away, so this tacit response he gets from his master is the best his mind can offer him.

(It's more than he's hoped for, anyway.)

The enchantment breaks when he presses their lips together. 

A tremor shakes Obi-Wan and he pushes Anakin an arm's length away, face unreadable.

"Let me have this," Anakin implores. Of course that even in his dreams, he would feel the pressure building up on his shoulders, the duties, the do's and don't's of their order, the inevitable distance he has to maintain. It's all coming back and threatening to swallow him whole. "I want to kiss you so much—"

"Please, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispers, tired but what does he want? What is he pleading for?

Anakin relents, though not without regret. 

Faintly, in the brief pause that stretches between them, he notices Obi-Wan's free hand is shaking where he's keeping it midair in-between them. Whether he wanted to push him away or pull him closer, the meaning is lost when Anakin grabs a hold of it and treads their fingers together.

The next moment, Obi-Wan breathes out and all but falls into him. Their noses bump into each other, their teeth clash—for a second he is thrown back to Naboo, from years ago, when Padmé indulged his crush for a while. The same frailty hangs in the air, like anything could break this moment, but there is less hesitation in Anakin's movements than he had in the past. Relieved and pleased that he can finally let go, Anakin reciprocates the kiss ardently. He savours the feeling of Obi-Wan's mouth moving against his, the warm breath they share between them, and he doesn't want to wake up. Alone, the thought of restraining his feelings hits him like a bludgeon, enough that he cups Obi-Wan's jaw and deepens their kiss until his thoughts vanish.

He runs his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, slides them down to the sides of his face and holds him gently as they kiss the way he's been dreaming of for months now. Every point of contact is like fire, but its burn is addictive and he wants more—he wants to claim every inch of Obi-Wan as his own and show him openly how much the man means to him. 

As he seeks Obi-Wan's lips, he loses himself bit by bit in the passion. The edges of his vision blur, then the colours disappear completely. He doesn't remember closing his eyes, but now there is only touch left in-between them—the scratch of Obi-Wan's beard on his throat and the spots of pleasure he teases at with his open-mouthed kisses as he moves lower. 

For all his previous drive, Anakin feels boneless now, vulnerable. He leans back slowly, with each kiss dragging Obi-Wan down with him. There is no resistance from the man, on the contrary—he weighs him down further, swings a leg over Anakin's hips and secures their position. Warmth and comfort envelop Anakin, this feeling of safety and the crisp fragrance of green tea which often clings to Obi-Wan back at the Temple. He breathes in deeply and for a few moments, he dares let his guard down, deep in the confines of his mind.

"You're enough for me," he whispers to Obi-Wan. "I need you. I _want_ you."

Obi-Wan's breath tickles his cheek. "I love you," he says quietly, with a slight waver in his voice. A confession just between the two of them, away from the eyes of the universe. "I love you more than I should."

In the pause between two kisses, Anakin asks, "How much?"

Obi-Wan captures the words still on his lips in a searing kiss as sweet as honey. He rests on a forearm by Anakin's head and angles his head better to deepen the kiss.

That answers the question.

Anakin smiles involuntarily; he feels the corners of Obi-Wan's mouth turn up as well and their shared breath briefly becomes a shared laugh.

"Too much," Obi-Wan admits.

Anakin opens his eyes, eager to see what expression he may find on Obi-Wan's face—

—But only darkness welcomes him, darkness and the cold caves of the Mesa.

For a few minutes, Anakin remains motionless. His thoughts are scattered; it's hard to pick one out of the white noise and follow it properly. There is a terrible emptiness growing in his chest, colder than the caverns even, and it steals his breath away as wakefulness sinks in. Already his dream is a mound of ashes swept away by the wind, leaving behind nothing but the faintest of traces that it ever happened.

A small ripple in the Force brushes past him, so delicate and slight its touch that Anakin doubts its origin. It could be him, still unfocused and absolutely exhausted.

"General?"

Captain Rex approaches. There's barely any light to see anything beyond the shiny edges of the clone trooper's armour.

"Did something happen?" Anakin asks, voice sleep-addled. Briefly, he wonders if he is even making sense out-loud.

Captain Rex stops a few steps away. "You were unconscious for an hour, sir, at the very least."

An hour? He feels like he slept for days and could still sleep if they forgot about him and left him behind. Curl up in this damp, uncomfortable cave in the middle of nowhere and forget about himself. Let the Force reclaim him.

"I’m… I think I’m alright now. Have you rested at all?" Anakin stands. True to his word, his limbs cooperate more than before. "Where is Fives? And the droid?"

"Scouting on ahead. The droid knows these tunnels, I'll give it that."

Anakin ignites his lightsaber and keeps it between them, bathing them in blue light.

"No reply to my question? Should I make it an order, Captain?" He shakes his head.

The clone sputters. It's easy to read his body language even with the armour on, especially when Captain Rex is caught between levels of formality again. He stands straight, almost at attention, but one of his hands is reaching out—perhaps to reassure Anakin of his well-being.

"I can go on a little longer, sir. There's no need."

"We should be close to the outpost," Anakin says as he surveys the place. "You will take a breather there, understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

Not a minute after Captain Rex' dutiful response, the other clone trooper returns with Roger in tow. The beady lights mounted around the droid’s optical lenses give their position from far away. They waste no time in crossing the area toward Anakin and Captain Rex, the battle droid unruffled, but Fives noticeably worked up, breathing with some difficulty.

"There are droids up ahead. Functional." Fives takes a deep breath and continues at a steadier pace. "We counted at least six B2 units and about a dozen B1 milling the corridors near the outpost entrance."

"The odds that we encounter more than thirty units in this outpost are 642.54 to 1," says Roger.

Captain Rex inhales loudly. "It's walking us into a trap!"

"We have no choice but to go forward now," Anakin reminds him. "Besides, I rewired it. Do you trust me?"

The clone captain spends a few moments in silence, completely still.

"Data shows Republic troops 88% more likely to trust their allies than Separatist forces trust theirs," Roger says.

"That's not helping, Roger," Anakin warns.

The droid continues undeterred: "I trust _you_ 100%, Captain Rex."

"Oh, come on!" Said captain throws his hands in the air and walks away to the main tunnel.

Anakin and Fives both turn to the droid and stare at it speechless.

"What?" It looks between them in confusion.

"Let's get going, buddy. Lead the way."

Noises drift out in warning well before they are within range of the outpost. The voices of several B1-battle droids reach them easily through the back entrance, left open. There is chaos and confusion among the bots, and by the bits and pieces of their conversation, it appears that the base continues to be offline and there has been no contact yet made by any Separatist leaders.

"Here’s the plan," Anakin whispers, gathering his troopers and the droid in a circle. "You go in and distract the droids." He looks at Roger pointedly. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we go in, take them out, and hopefully put a dent in their numbers before they sound the alarm."

"Yes, sir," the two clones echo, standing at attention.

It’s not much in terms of strategy, but the element of surprise should give them a great advantage.

The friendly battle droid enters the station through the back door. As soon as it is noticed, others approach it quickly, seeking news from the base.

Anakin breathes in deeply, lightsaber in his left hand. He makes eye contact with Rex for a second, as he prepares himself for the fight; there is no more worry on the captain’s face, only determination. A similar sight awaits him when he looks at Fives, brave and among the most skilled of his men.

It’s time to put that skill to the test.

For all the scouting and care-taking that Rex and Fives have been doing all day, they still respond sharply to danger, falling back on their training as easily as making a cup of tea. Between the three of them, the droids fall like flies.

In the first chamber, surrounding Roger, they take out five B1 units before the droids even make sense that they are being attacked. The remaining four open fire, but in the chaos, their shots are wide, and Anakin cuts them in half before they can orient themselves.

A corridor over, Anakin spots a control center and calls them inside at once. The machinery here is working flawlessly, too far away from the base to be affected by the EMP radius.

Without wasting a single breath, Fives rushes to the computer, his fingers moving furiously across the keys.

"Contact Obi-Wan," Anakin says.

"On it, sir."

Rex moves on ahead, standing in position by the door between them and the rest of the outpost. The blaster shots attract the other residents of the place like hungry womp rats swarming a carcass back on Tatooine, violence punctuated by each of the droids’ heavy footsteps.

A sense of déja vu fills Anakin as he waits for the communication to transmit. How long ago did they stand in a similar fashion, with the promise of dozens of battle droids swarming them at any moment?

As soon as the first droids take the corner around the corridor, Rex shoots them down cleanly, his hand unwavering despite the obvious strain to keep himself upright.

"Transmission sent. They have our position," Fives says, joining Rex by the door.

"Let’s get out of this place." Anakin holds his lightsaber ignited in front of him as he takes the lead, deflecting blaster shots with the same amount of effort he needed back when he was still learning. Not a happy reminder overall, but he pushes onward, desperate to be out of the cold.

Behind him, the clones send a shower of blaster shots at the droids until the floor is littered in sparking, metal carcasses.

A brief lapse in the wave of enemies lets them cross the outpost, running along the sterile corridors. The battle droid directs them to the main exit of the building, taking turns and skipping steps on the stairs with as much urgency as the clones themselves.

In the large lobby by the door, they stumble over another group of clankers.

"General Skywalker!" Fives calls out to him, voice haggard. "Magnaguard!"

The droid wielding the electrostaff wastes no time in imposing its presence. The weapon cackles alarmingly on both ends as it is activated, its beady visor scanning the area for human signatures.

Anakin breathes in once—the only preparation he manages before the skirmish starts.

It dives for him as soon as it recognizes the threat he poses. Anakin blocks each of its attacks with his lightsaber, but he isn't as proficient in left handed dueling as he is with his dominant hand. Fear claws at the edges of his awareness, both for him and for the fate of his troopers if he were to lose this fight. The muscles in his arm and forearm are locked tightly; he tries to calm down, but his mind is blank, stuck in his anxiety.

The droid lunges and drives its staff in one powerful stab toward his neck. 

He throws himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the hit, and brings his lightsaber in a counter arc, aiming for the exposed underside of its thoracic plate. The lightsaber slashes the metal carcass but doesn't damage it in time before the droid moves out of range.

Twirling the staff menacingly, it turns to face Anakin again. Its reflexes are sharp and controlled, and while this wouldn't be such a challenge usually, right now Anakin is running on empty. They exchange more attacks, each parrying the other's hits. Anakin's ribs throb even more than they had when he first woke up. He leans on his right leg to block a strike and his vision whites out from the pressure building in his chest and back. Moving through the pain in an arch, he cuts the electrostaff in half and sends its powered down pieces rolling on the floor.

In retaliation, the droid knocks him over the head with one hand. The momentum carries him into a wall, where he slumps down, gasping for breath. His eyes close of their own accord. He hears the droid heading for him again and searches for the remnant bits of energy he has left to keep it away from him.

The force floats around him as it always does, but it trickles down between his fingers like sand.

He clenches his eyes tightly.

He's taken too much today.

There is a blast, then the sound of multiple metal pieces hitting the floor.

"That was a close one," Roger says.

Anakin exhales heavily. He remains slumped against the wall, only moving his hand around his middle to shield his injury.

"Thanks."

"Roger-roger!"

Rex and Fives finish off the rest of the droids, both of them breathing heavily.

Roger helps Anakin stand once the coast is clear and lets him lean onto its metal limb for support. With its other limb, it points to the doors.

"The way out," it states.

A collective exhale of relief makes its way out of their lungs the very moment they step into the jungle. Sunlight streams gently through the treetops, warm, invigorating—the simple feel of it on his skin makes Anakin stand straighter, bright awake.

"Thank you," Fives says earnestly.

The battle droid, pleased—"You’re welcome."

With renewed energy, the group leaves the outpost behind and heads toward the trees, in the general direction of their troops’ hideout. Both Rex and Fives are keeping a close eye on their comlinks—in the hours that have passed, the effect of the EMP has worn off, and with the added distance from the Mesa itself, their devices automatically reconnect to the private channels of the Republic military force.

"We are friends?" Roger asks suddenly.

Captain Rex looks to Anakin for help, but the Jedi offers merely a smile in return and laughs silently at the sour expression crossing the captain's face. 

"It takes more than a day," Rex answers gruffly, "but I suppose you’re getting there."

Anakin can't resist not butting in after all. "You saved my life—that makes you a friend in my book, but do you know what it means?"

Roger does not reply right away. It walks in step with them, head turned down as it processes the question.

Captain Rex glances at Anakin strangely, confused and probably further annoyed by the situation. Anakin has an even harder time containing his amusement to simply smiling and not overt chuckling.

"Priority commands," Roger says at last. "Special clearance. Identical status. For free."

"The clanker's got that right, Captain," Fives laughs.

"Indeed," Rex agrees.

***

An infernal mix of blasterfire, grenades, and loud clanking alert them of the conflict up ahead. As soon as they understand what the noises are, a collective sigh escapes their lungs, and they exchange a tired look.

"It should be the 212th," Rex says. "They were stationed on the other side of the Mesa."

Separatist figures pop up among the trees in the distance, merely a handful of droids which don’t make it very far before they are shot down by Rex and Fives. Like ants, more appear from the foliage, heading straight for them.

Anakin switches to the frequency the 212th uses. "This is Skywalker, requesting help."

"General Skywalker?!"

It flickers to life, much to his relief. 

Beside him, Captain Rex gives their coordinates again in-between two gasps for breath. He doesn’t stop shooting at the enemies the entire time.

"We're on our way!"

The four of them take down more droids, at the end of their strength.

The Republic always arrives when things are most dire, Anakin observes, as spots of white streaked with yellow appear in the distance.

Roger notices them too and points toward the clones. "I think I see them, sir, help is—"

The droid's voice box glitches out into static. A moment later, its body falls to the ground noisily.

Anakin feels cold all over and it's not at all from the receding adrenaline.

"No!" Captain Rex yells next to him and that's what makes everything real.

The poor B1 battle droid’s carcass is dead metal on the ground, its frozen limb now reaching up toward the sky.

Anakin stops moving and looks down at it emptily. What _were_ they going to do about Roger?

Certainly not this...

"General!" A clone trooper part of the 212th runs ahead of the group to meet them, medkit in hand. "Are you injured? Come, quick, we have transport ready."

Silent, with this added stone on top of his shoulders, Anakin lets himself be led toward the Republic transport ship. He looks behind him once, briefly, before the trees cover all traces of the droids, the fight, and the outpost.

  
  


**Part III**

The Resolute is brimming with energy. What seems to be all the personnel on deck—officers, clones, maintenance staff, regardless of rank or duties, are in constant flux on the ship, walking up and down the corridors outside Anakin’s cabin ceaselessly.

Perhaps he is imagining it, but each new set of footsteps he hears near his door exhausts him further.

Half an hour ago, he left his captain sitting wearily in his own quarters, marker in hand as Rex added another tally mark on his helmet.

The unexpected fall of their newest, most unusual comrade in arms has disturbed more than just Anakin, it seems.

"Anakin?"

He looks up to the door, where Obi-Wan is standing, no longer dressed in his white battle armour. 

A sense of _déjà vu_ overtakes Anakin.

For a second, it makes him forget about his worries, as the tantalizing dream returns in bits and pieces.

He returns to his tinkering with his metal hand. The plates of his forearm are propped open and some of the circuitry still needs to be screwed in before he can use it to its full capacity again. It is easier to fiddle with the tiny screwdriver left-handed now, but he’s had a good number of years to learn to do it. Fighting is challenging still, as he was recently reminded.

Obi-Wan lingers in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.

"Come in," Anakin tells him. 

The mechanism of his metal hand is intricate, though he could reassemble it with his eyes closed. It doesn't need to be looked at so attentively, yet Obi-Wan Kenobi's presence brings back all the thoughts and feelings he's been trying to repress, so the metal parts are the only thing he can bear to focus on.

The Jedi master finally enters the room. He goes to the kitchenette first thing—just a couple of appliances mounted in a wall, really—and turns on the electrical kettle lying on the cupboard. 

The minute it takes for the water to boil feels like an hour instead as Anakin struggles to keep himself from revealing too much. He's gotten better at it over time, but after the recent events, he doesn’t know how good of a hold he has over himself right now.

 _No attachments,_ says the Code, but he's always had a hard time letting go of people.

Perhaps if he'd known this before, way back… but could a child ever understand what it means to make such a decision?

Some days he wonders what would have happened had he stayed on Tatooine.

"Anakin? You seem distracted."

Obi-Wan brings two cups of tea with him, which he places on the floor, then unceremoniously follows suit and sits on the floor.

Anakin moves to stand—"We can go to the table, Master, don't sit on the floor."

"Well, you don't seem too interested in receiving this guest—" he gestures to himself with a flourish of his hand "—so I suppose I have no choice but to bring myself to your level."

"Ha, ha," Anakin deadpans, unamused. He puts the tools back in the metal box, then grabs one of the teacups with his left hand and inhales the herbal fragrance of the infusion. The tea, the teasing beginnings of their usual banter… it hits him with such familiarity and longing that it takes everything in him not to tear up right there and then.

(It wouldn’t be the most embarrassing thing he’s done.)

"I'm sorry about the droid," Obi-Wan says.

"It's not…" Anakin sighs deeply. "That's alright. The trooper couldn't have known." It's not the heaviest weight on his shoulders, but perhaps his master will misinterpret his reasons for bringing this up. "How do you let go?" 

"Do not forget we are not without compassion," Obi-Wan reminds him, taking on his teaching voice. It makes him seem wiser and older than he actually is, and sometimes, after they laugh at this and that or try to one-up each other during missions, moments like this remind Anakin that his master has had to grow up much faster after the death of Qui-Gon Jinn.

"How can we have compassion for all, but not…"

"But not for the individual?" Obi-Wan finishes somberly. He takes a sip of tea and mulls over his answer for a good minute.

Anakin glances at him from the corner of his eyes. Obi-Wan looks weary. He's cleaned up since they returned to the ship, but there are lines underneath his eyes that betray his fretting. It brings a wildness to Anakin, sets his blood racing to know he was the cause of this worry.

"It is difficult."

Anakin almost rolls his eyes and parrots the words Obi-Wan has told him oh, so many times before: "I must meditate and balance my emotions. Understand my duty as a Jedi and how I can help others and keep my distance at the same time. Yeah, I know."

His exasperation must show on his face, because Obi-Wan narrows his eyes and replies hotly, "You _know_ it’s more than that. When I say distance, I mean from the emotions themselves. Let them pass through you. They come and they go. Don’t hold onto them."

They _hold onto me,_ Anakin almost says, but thinks better of it. He hasn’t rested enough yet and he is not ready to have this conversation. Not right now.

"Is there something more bothering you?"

"No. Nothing's bothering me. No, don't give me that look, Obi-Wan!" Anakin puts the cup down and reaches for the screwdriver again. "Did you need me for something?"

"Is it not enough to want to drink some tea in the company of my old Padawan?"

"I see."

He hears Obi-Wan sigh and almost sighs himself.

For a while, neither of them speaks and Anakin finally finishes setting up his prosthetic. He moves his artificial fingers, flexing and extending them slowly. As expected, there is no catch in the mechanisms, and he smiles to himself, satisfied with his work.

"I was worried about you," Obi-Wan admits quietly. "The whole place crashed down. The 501st lost all contact with your team." 

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Anakin tries to jest, but the joke falls flat when he sees the pensive look on Obi-Wan's face. "We got out just fine, thanks to…"

"And I'm glad that you did." Obi-Wan's stare is so intense he leans forward with it. As he places the teacup on the floor, he reaches out with his other hand until it rests on the junction between Anakin's neck and his shoulder and squeezes gently. "I was afraid."

"You—"

"I could barely sense you in the Force."

Though Anakin feels better now, the mental strain of his heroics persists. He half-winces, half-smiles at his master. "I had to do something."

Obi-Wan huffs. "Oh, I’ve heard all about your deeds. Don’t you let it go to your head, Anakin."

Anakin chuckles—there is little else he can do when Obi-Wan’s hand is still on the side of his neck, warm and heavy, as if he’s forgotten about it, about how close they are.

An entire confession could fit in the pause that stretches between them. There is the stilted breathing, the dry mouth, the tension, and there is no way Obi-Wan hasn’t noticed the look in his eyes. Still, Anakin does not speak up.

Obi-Wan gets a hold of himself first, as always. His hand drops and he stands before Anakin has time to react (to protest?).

"I should check on the rest," he says. "Make sure you rest. You should try to meditate, even if it feels like a wasted effort. It adds up over time."

Without waiting for a reply, he turns around and heads for the door.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin calls out, his hand reaching out toward him in a short, aborted gesture.

The Jedi stops in the doorway, his shoulders set in a tense line.

"You looked for me," Anakin says. He wanted a question, but instead this plight comes out, the nuance well embedded into the wavering of his voice.

"We all looked."

"Was that you? On Coruscant?"

Obi-Wan glances at him slightly, so that only the hint of his profile is visible, but not enough to gauge his expression.

Anakin cranes his neck, desperate to see him.

"No," Obi-Wan answers. 

A beat. 

"But I did look, in the Force," Obi-Wan admits in a whisper. "Was that you on Tatooine?"

A chill akin to the biting cold inside the caverns envelopes Anakin, as if he has never escaped their grasp. Joy and horror both—and whatever he replies, he knows it will either make them or break them.

The longer he stalls, the more obvious the answer will be, so he swallows thickly and, for once in his life, makes the selfless decision.

"It wasn't," he lies.

Obi-Wan breathes out heavily. He hangs his head down for a few seconds, like he's laughing silently at an inside joke, then he turns fully and gives Anakin one of his usual smiles.

"Keep your eyes open next time. I'd rather not inherit your Padawan."

"I will, Master."

As the door closes behind Obi-Wan, Anakin thinks back to the friendly battle droid lying on the floor of the jungle, forever reaching for something it will never have.

**Author's Note:**

> So... upholding the status quo? Various aspects of it, including Roger's fate, which I apologize for.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! ♥♥ Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! What did you think?


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